Game Over

by Raina

Archive: yes please, M_A; nuttersinc (elsewhere please ask for distribution)

Pairing: Q/O

Category: AU, PWP, Romance arguably

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Fiend in Flannel.

Feedback: Do you want a sequel? Or do you want me to abandon this now as long as there's still time for me to run? Tell me at raina_at@yahoo.de

Summary: Fighting and losing against forces of attraction.

Notes: This all started out when my Padawan asked me for a fic for the one-month anniversary of her apprenticeship. It turned into a plot bunny, which turned into an AU PWP series plot bunny, of which this is the first instalment. I don't know yet if I'll write others, but probably yes. I also admit that this was at least partly inspired by Master Ruth and Hilary's "Slacker" series. Thank you, ladies.

Series: Maybe ? Possibly ? Knowing me, make that probably?

Thankyous: I wasn't sure if this worked at all, but Leandra said it was fine, so once again, you wouldn't be reading this if it wasn't for her. Thank you Padawan Mephista for the challenge that gave me an image that spawned a bunny. Thank you Tem-ve for your invaluable input and excellent beta.

Neither of them remembered when exactly it had started. This feeling of electricity, currents running in the Force, temperature rising when one entered a room the other was already in.

At first, neither of them had connected the odd energy they felt to each other. They hadn't known each other, but one too many instances of passing each other in hallways or standing behind each other in the dining hall queue had made it obvious. The attraction. The magnetism. The energy.

They hadn't exactly spoken to each other. But then again, words weren't really necessary between them. They both just knew.

It wouldn't have been a problem if Padawans weren't strictly forbidden to have sexual relations – with anyone – before their 21st birthday. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was 19.

But neither of them seemed able to do anything about the sizzling attraction that held them both captive whenever they met, ever so briefly in hallways, libraries, training halls.

They hadn't acted on the attraction other than a brushing of hands once in the queue of the dining hall, a secret smile in the lobby, a casual touching of shoulders in the waiting area of the Healers' ward. But the thoughts of it were always there. Like an itch under Qui-Gon's skin.

And they knew. They knew with a certainty that made Qui-Gon dizzy. Knew that the other felt the same pull, the same heat, had the same secret thoughts of doing absolutely everything to the other that was physically possible.

One day, they had been together in the same room for almost an hour, in the antechamber of the Council Chamber, Obi-Wan waiting for his Master, Qui-Gon waiting to be called in for debriefing. They hadn't been alone, and even if they had been, they probably wouldn't have spoken to each other anyway. But they had stared. It's astounding how long you can hold eye contact without blinking, Qui-Gon remembered thinking to himself.

When Qui-Gon had been called into the Council Chamber, he'd been hard pressed to suppress the shaking. Turning around briefly, he'd noticed that Obi-Wan had had similar difficulties.

And now... well, now they were going on a mission together.

Once again, they were in the same room, this time in the Council Chamber proper, and once again, Qui-Gon had to suppress the shaking.

"Master Jinn, Master Ti'la, Padawan Kenobi, you will report to Melos II and assist the Melosians in negotiating their peace treaty with the renegades from their fourth moon."

Mace Windu went on with mission details, but Qui-Gon needed all his concentration for shielding against the almost overwhelming desire to run. Or push Obi-Wan against the wall and make sure the young man still had his tonsils. With his tongue.

How would he ever survive a mission with Obi-Wan in close proximity when a glimpse of him in the hallway was enough to completely destroy the Master's serenity for days?

Well, he would manage. He would. Really. He was Jedi after all.

Three days later, Qui-Gon had used up every meditation technique known to him and had descended to cursing.

Any observer, even one as keen and interested as Obi-Wan's Master, wouldn't have guessed what was going on beneath the serene and calm surface of both men. But they both knew better.

They spent their days in close proximity, sitting around the same table in negotiations, sharing three meals in the same company.

Qui-Gon only counted his blessings that they were never alone. Obi- Wan's Master was always there with them, at least. Most of the time they were surrounded by people, thank the Force.

The strain began to show though. Qui-Gon hadn't slept well in days and Obi-Wan's lack of appetite was noticeable even for someone who didn't watch him as compulsively as Qui-Gon did.

The energy between them seemed to build up the longer they were together. Usually, when their eyes met, a spark seemed to ignite somewhere in Qui-Gon's entrails. Now, this spark felt like a volcano.

They'd taken to avoiding each other's eyes, by silent accord keeping as far away from each other as possible without leaving the room. They'd managed not to exchange more than three or four sentences so far, for fear of what would happen if they actually spoke. The mere sound of Obi-Wan's voice when he said hello was almost too much for Qui-Gon at times.

Fortunately the rigid setting of the negotiations and the absolute focus their duty required served as a restraint for Qui-Gon's raging desires, made it possible to resist the pull of his blood at least for a little while.

The rest of his time Qui-Gon spent on his knees or in the shower. The cold shower, repeating to himself again and again what a thoroughly bad idea it was to think about Obi-Wan when granting himself relief. Don't think about blue-green eyes, enticing curve of neck and collarbone revealed by the v-necked tunics, don't think about the cultured voice that made him shudder with a mere 'hello'.

Qui-Gon was no stranger to desire in all its forms, from mild interest to burning his brains out, but this…. this was different, stronger, more intense, pulling him to this other person, blood, flesh and bones. At times he felt a bit like a teenager in the heights of his first crush, but this was no crush, it was deeper, more primal, something springing from the core of his being, a force of startling power, as all-consuming as it was confusing.

He didn't even know Obi-Wan, but oh how he wanted to, inside and out, every inch of his skin and every corner of his mind and soul. He'd given up pretences that it was merely physical. He'd given up arguing with himself that it was forbidden. He'd given up denial. He'd given up asking himself what it was that pulled him so to Obi- Wan, had long since stopped trying to work out why he felt so absolutely certain that he'd find whatever he was looking for in the other man. He acknowledged and accepted that what drew them together defied reason, rules, qualification, it just was, much like the Force itself. He didn't know or care why it was so, he just knew he wanted Obi-Wan in nearly every way one human being could want another.

And he'd also acknowledged and accepted that everything he wanted and needed was thoroughly, completely and wholly unattainable.

As rigid and formal as the negotiations had been, the party celebrating their successful conclusion was anything but. In fact, everybody seemed to have the time of their life. Music, food, drink, dancing, everything a good celebration needed was provided in abundance and excellent quality. Even the most formal and rigid negotiator seemed relaxed and casual, there were no dress codes, but everybody appeared in civilian clothes, even the Jedi negotiators were expected to have a good time, and as far as appearances went, they did.

Obi-Wan would have liked to relax, mingle, dance and partake of the refreshments, but he didn't dare release the extreme concentration which was the only thing that had kept him from falling apart during the week-long negotiations.

He knew that Qui-Gon had tried, just as he had, to be excused from the celebrations, but their hosts had insisted that they needed to unwind. Obi-Wan snorted in his mind. If their hosts knew that the very last thing two of their three Jedi guests needed was to spend an evening in the same room, no matter how large, in a relaxed atmosphere, with wine and music and enough people to make it entirely possible for them to vanish together, unseen and unmissed….

Obi-Wan cut off that thought before he could follow it through to its conclusion. It was too much of a fantasy he could never live out, and yet he knew they were both at the end of their tether. He felt Qui-Gon's eyes on him, was aware of the Jedi Master's body, of warmth and smell, even though Qui-Gon was at the far end of the room, keeping his distance, just as Obi-Wan did, quietly trying to save a small scrap of serenity from the roaring in both their hearts.

He knew it was futile, that they had already lost the fight against the primal force pulling them together, and he knew that Qui-Gon knew as well, but he also knew that if he did indeed give in to this pull, this energy pulsing between them, he would be breaking his Padawan vows.

Still the edict of celibacy had been issued by the Council, and whatever pulled him to Qui-Gon was a much more primal force than the Jedi Council, much stronger, more compulsive, closely akin to the Force itself.

So when he saw Qui-Gon go to the bathroom, he could do nothing else but follow.

Qui-Gon shut the door to the restrooms behind himself with a sigh. He wasn't sure how long his already tightly stretched serenity would hold before he snapped and did something incredibly stupid and entirely forbidden. He made his way to the washbasins, glad that he was alone in the cool, blue-tiled room. Gathering the running water up with his hands, he wet his face and ran his wet hands through his hair, reciting the litany for patience, hoping against hope that his splitting headache would finally go away.

The door fell closed behind him, and he turned around slowly, though he already knew who had entered. He sighed. He was so sick of running, and now it seemed inevitability had caught up with him.

Obi-Wan was standing at the door, with sweaty hair, in the civilian clothing their hosts had given him and that left little to the imagination, braid rising and falling with his laboured breaths, hair red against the blue tiles.

Qui-Gon didn't dare to meet his eyes, didn't want to, but their gazes were drawn together like magnets, met, fixed and held.

Smoky blue-green, more blue in this light, staring at him, echoing the same spark he'd felt going off behind his own eyes.

He had trouble breathing. It was much warmer now. The room seemed smaller than it had just a moment before, or had Obi-Wan moved towards him?

But no, the Padawan hadn't moved an inch in the eternity they had been staring at each other.

Qui-Gon had a sense of déjà vu. How many times had they stood like this before, staring, knowing, wanting? Sometimes it seemed his whole life had consisted of moments like this, even though a part of him felt new, untouched, unused, like the virgin he knew Obi-Wan to be.

He had to pull himself together, had to find some semblance of calm, of reason, of duty. From somewhere, he found his voice. "Didn't your Master tell you it's impolite to stare?" Qui-Gon's tone was harsh to his own ears.

A slow half-smile quirked Obi-Wan's face. "I'm a slow learner."

Qui-Gon doubted it. He had long since read every scrap of information there was about Obi-Wan Kenobi and knew that in fact the Padawan was an exceptionally fast learner, as well as flexible and very agile. It occurred to Qui-Gon, not for the first time, that he would have loved to train Obi-Wan, but tonight, his thoughts seemed to take an entirely different path to the same conclusion, one that didn't involve training halls, but Qui-Gon's bedroom. He was absolutely certain that Obi-Wan would be a quick study in both chambers.

He quenched the thought, but his body nevertheless reacted to the image. He'd been half hard before, but now his pants were even more uncomfortable. A red haze was descending over his brain, divorcing him from conscious thought, it seemed.

He didn't even realise that he had moved towards Obi-Wan, didn't consciously register that Obi-Wan had put a hand on his chest and pushed him back into one of the stalls until his back was pressed to the wall and his body was inches away from the one he'd fantasised about for what seemed his entire life.

A small shard of reason remained. "Obi-Wan, this isn't a game."

Serious blue-green eyes met his. "I'm not playing."

Something inside Qui-Gon snapped into place. No more games. No more looks and energy and tiptoeing around each other. Reality had come and left no more room for denial. Game over.

Serenity snapped, calm shattered, control evaporated like mist in sunshine. He pushed Obi-Wan back against the other wall and gave in.

Warm lips touched his and everything around him faded, the tiles, the bathroom, the noises from the party, the doubt, the knowledge that this was forbidden. He only knew warm lips on his, warm body pressed to his, hands in his hair.

He pushed his tongue into Obi-Wan's mouth and taste exploded all over him. He never knew anyone could taste this good, this new, this familiar. Never tasted before and yet he'd known down to cellular level what Obi-Wan would taste like, what his hands would feel like in his hair, body against his, erection pressing into his thigh.

Abandoning himself to the sensations, he devoured Obi-Wan, was devoured in return, pulled at clothing until naked torso met naked torso.

Sparks of sheer Force electricity passed over their skin at every point of contact, mouth, chest, hips.

A thigh insinuated itself between his own and a leg hooked around his waist. Hard thigh making contact with his harder cock. His leg burned by hot arousal.

Contact. Rubbing. Heat. Delicious friction, cool tiles on Obi-Wan's back, Padawan braid trapped between them, brushing over nipples, his, Obi-Wan's? He didn't know or care. He could no longer tell where he ended and Obi-Wan began, he just lost himself in the energy of them. He felt their climax build, like a sun drawing the last of its energy inward before turning nova. He powered all his Force energy into Obi- Wan's shields against the training bond with his Master before the nova hit and they came. Together.

The universe shattered around them. Sight, sound, sensation, gone. For one moment, one instant, there was only the light. Their light.

Slowly, they came back to themselves. Qui-Gon to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan to Obi-Wan. Looked at each other and couldn't quite see the other behind eyes that had lost their sense of 'me' and had just disentangled themselves from 'us'.

Slowly, tentatively, they moved, in automatic mode. They helped each other to dress with shaking hands, cleaning off as best as they could.

They stepped out of the bathroom stall and smoothed their clothes and hair, drawing the masks around themselves again, pretending the universe hadn't just shattered and rearranged itself around their joining. Around them.

They shared a glance before they stepped out into the world again, exchanging knowledge and a quiet apology. They couldn't be together, they both knew that. But they also knew that they already were, and would always be.

Both drew a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom, pretending to the entire world that nothing had happened, when in fact nothing would ever be the same again.

(tbc, possibly)